


If Things Were Different

by Roguemaster9908



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: A L L G A Y, AU- nobody dies, Chandler can play almost anything on any instrument, Duke's crazy smart (second only to Ronnie), F/F, JD is a literal 'Jack of all trades', Mac is a gay art freak disaster and we love her any way, Mixed Chandler/Veronica, Modern AU, Movie Duke, Musical Mac, Musical jd, Ronnie's a huge theatre nerd, THEY'RE A L L G A Y, The Heathers are based off of different Versions, movie betty, musical martha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-08-07 17:28:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16412780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roguemaster9908/pseuds/Roguemaster9908
Summary: What if Jason Dean had never influenced Veronica? What if she never served Heather Chandler the cup-o-drano that was her demise?A multi-chapter fanfic by someone who doesn't write fanfics about what I think would happen if this happened instead of Dead Girl Walking





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty much the same up until dead girl walking

 

_Dear diary,  
do you ever feel like you’re in a musical? I mean, I think everyone just burst into song but I could be wrong. Just kidding. Hehe. I’m not funny…_

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

  


_September 1_ _st_ _, 1989 (Jk. It’s the 21_ _st_ _century :P)._

_Dear diary,_  
I believe I’m a good person, you know I think that there’s good in everyone, but uh…  
Here we are. First day of senior year! And uh, I look around at these kids that I’ve known all my life and I ask myself: What happened?

_Because most of us are total dicks now. i.e.: Ram Sweeny, 3_ _rd_ _year as linebacker and 8_ _th_ _year of smacking lunch treys. Seriously, he’s been like that since grade freakin 5. I’m pretty sure the only person who’s still genuinely nice is Martha, my best friend since… Well diapers. We’ve been doing our little movie night thing since 7_ _th_ _grade. Next one’s tonight. And there’s always the jerks like Kurt Kelly (He may be the smartest guy on the football team, but hey, for what it’s worth, that’s like being the tallest dwarf)_

_And then there's the Heathers. They float above it all. First up is Heather McNamara. She’s head cheerleader, and her dad is loaded. Which isn’t surprising, seeing as he sells engagement rings. Then we have Heather Duke. Who a) runs the yearbook and b) has no flipping personality to call her own. But hey, I guess she makes up for the latter with implants. Blech. And then ‘The almighty’, Heather Chandler… Where do I begin?_

I trail off in my diary entrance. The bell has rung and now lunch is over. I quickly make my way to the washroom before the second bell rings. This is one of the rare times where I skip part of class. The teachers don’t mind; I’m the smartest kid in the school, so they’re pretty cool with it. Except Ms. Fleming. She detests anyone who skips, or is smarter than her. For what it’s worth, my i.q. is probably higher than her… My thoughts trail off as I hear the door open and I pull my feet up so they’re on the toilet seat cover thingy that I’m sitting on. I hear someone a couple of stalls down hurling into a toilet (hopefully).

“Grow up Heather. Bulimia’s so ’87.” Shit. It’s Heather Chandler.

“Heather’s right, maybe you should see a doctor Heather.” That one sounds like McNamara, so the one currently viewing her lunch again is Duke.

“Yeah Heather, Maybe I should.” How do they know which one they’re talking about? Jesus.

The door opens again and I see the end of Ms. Fleming’s signature long brown dress. _Shit_. I flip through my diary, trying to find an extra hall pass. I quickly fill it out in some random teacher’s handwriting and prepare to open the stall. _Wait… Do I really want to help them?_ I push aside those thoughts and open the stall door.

“Actually, Ms. Flemming, all four of us are out on a hall pass. Yearbook committee.” I avoid eye-contact as I hand her the ‘Hall pass’.

“I see you’re all listed. Hurry up and get where you’re going.” I hear her sigh and the crinkle of the paper as she hands it back to me, taking her leave.

Next thing I know, Chandler has plucked the paper from my hand and is examining it.

“This is an excellent forgery.” Oh my stars. She praised me. “Who are you?” Chandler asks, poking me in the side of the face.

“Veronica… Sawyer.” My hands are shaking as I continue. I can’t believe I’m about to do this. “I-I crave a boon.” I stutter.

“What boon?” Chandler almost snaps. Almost. I take a deep breath and look her in the eyes, trying to be intimidating, which is not easy when the person in front of you is a) 3 inches shorter (why are short people scary? Is it because there's less space for them to spread their anger out?), b) in six inch heels, and c) the head of the most powerful clique in school, therefore having the power to turn you into a god or an ex-somebody with a snap of her fingers.

“Let me sit at your table at lunch, just once, no talking necessary.” Her eyebrows raise and she opens her mouth to speak but I cut her off. “If people think that you guys tolerate me, then they’ll leave me alone.” Chandler opens her mouth only to be cut off by me once again. “Before you answer I also do report cards, permission slips, and absence notes.

Duke, who’s been examining my hall pass with Mac, looks up intrigued.

“What about prescriptions?” She asks with a bit of hope dancing in her eyes.

“Shut up, Heather!” The bit of hope disappears as Chandler snaps.

“Sorry Heather.” Duke retreats back to Mac, who gives her a sympathetic look. Chandler returns her attention to me, grabbing my face and turning my head, examining every little detail of my face.

“For a greasy little nobody, you do have good bone structure.” She releases me and Mac comes over, her face inches from mine.

“And a symmetrical face.” She smiles. “If I took a meat cleaver down the center of your skull, I’d have matching halves. That’s very important.”

“And that’s creepy.” I think I hear Chandler mutter under her breath.

“Of course you could stand to lose a few pounds.” Duke adds with a bit of remorse in her eyes.

Then I could of sworn they started singing. Just kidding. That doesn’t happen in real life. Just musicals and Disney movies (why are they like that though? Really?).

“And you know, this _could_ be beautiful.” Heather numero uno is looking me up and down and you can almost see the gears turning in her head.

“Mascara, maybe some lipgloss.” She’s muttering. “And we’re on our way!” She’s got a weird spark in her eyes, almost as if she’s… _No_. Heather Chandler, Mythic bitch of Westerburg high, excited? That’s as likely as Ram keeping a girl cause he’s nice. “Get your blush out of your bag Heather. And Heather?” Mac perks up as Duke starts rummaging through her purse. How the… I’m not even going to ask.

“Yes Heather?”

“I need your brush. Hand it over.” She does without question.

“Wh-What are you doing?” I query.

“Making you beautiful.” She mutters something that I don’t quite catch, then continues. “Okay?”

“Okay!”

 

I feel a twisted feeling in my gut. My stars I’m so nervous, why am I so nervous? It’s not like I missed the two periods between lunch and study hall , ha, why would you think that. The Heathers pulled me into an office off of the library that I didn’t know existed until today. Chandler gave me a full makeover, which is kind of weird for her. She usually doesn’t associate with nerds, let alone let herself get this close to one. I think she thinks she'll catch a disease or something.

When that’s done Chandler pulls me behind a screen and starts looking through a rack of clothes they seem to keep here until she finds something. She pulls out a mini skirt, a white dress shirt and a blue jacket, almost identical to the one she’s wearing. I can see the pride shimmering in her eyes.

“Change.” Heather demands. My eyes widen.

“What here? Now?!” I take a step back, she takes two forward.

“Yes, now here are the clothes.”

“Like, right _now_ now?” She nods. “B-but you’re still here.” She shrugs. I shudder. She’s not budging. “Can you at least turn around?” Heather sighs, and does as told. I turn as well and throw on the skirt and dress shirt as quickly as I can.

“You can turn around now.” I say, turning around. She’s already facing me. _Was she staring the whole time?_ I shake off the thought.

“Put the blazer on; we’re going to study hall.” I oblige, and she grabs me by the wrist and drags me out from behind the screen.

Heather McNamara and Heather Duke are sitting on a trunk full of who knows what kind of crap as Heather Chandler continues to march me to the door.

“Let’s go byatches! Get your asses in gear!” The get up and rush to take their places behind Chandler.

As we walk down these halls, Chandler in front, Duke and Mac to the sides, and me in the rear, I here whispers.

“Who’s that with Heather?” Ms. Flemming is whispering to one of her coworkers. A couple of kids are sneaking glances over at us, mostly me. Another person is listing our, no, their names and someone. I hear Principal Gowan mutter something about a babe. Ew. Then I hear Martha.

“Veronica?!” A chorus of my name seems to rush through the crowd. Dear diary, am I right? I unlock my phone and start typing notes, cause it’s kind of hard to write in my diary seeing as it’s still in the washroom with my bag.

_Dear phone and totally not diary,_

_You know, life really can be beautiful. You can hope and dream and pray. And maybe you’ll get your way. (Hehe that rhymes) Ask me how it feels, looking like hell on wheels…_

_My god, this is beautiful!_

_And when you’re beautiful, it’s a beautiful frickin’ day!_

 


	3. Chapter 3

_September 22_ _nd_ _, 20-wouldn’t you like to know_

_Dear diary  
It’s been three weeks since I became friends with the Heathers. Ha! Friends. More like coworkers, and our job is being popular and shit._

I close my diary as the bell rings for lunch. I start walking to my locker when I bump into someone ahead of me.

“Oh sorr- No you first” We apologize in unison. I look up.

“Martha?” A huge smile spreads across my face. “Hey!”

“Hi Ronnie!” She smiles to. “You know, you really do look beautiful these days.”

“Thanks! But it’s still the same me underneath all this crap.” I gesture to all the makeup on my face. “Shit. Don’t tell Heather that.” Martha giggles, then sighs. Guilt rises in my throat.

“Look, I’m sorry I ditched movie night last week. I… I just have a lot going on.” Martha looks at me with a longing look in her eyes.

“It’s okay. You’re with the Heathers now. That’s exciting.” I can hear the disappointment in her voice.

“It’s whatever, but I promise I’ll catch up on movie night soon.” She looks doubtful.

“Ok see you.” Martha looks behind me. “Uh-oh.”

“What?” I turn, and she’s there. Like right behind me.

“Veronica! Heather wants you to haul ass to the table. Pronto!” Duke has an expression that reads ‘bitch’ all over it, except her eyes. It’s all an act. I’ve figured Duke out. Well, I’ve had theories since Sophomore year, but still. Good to know they were mostly correct.

“How very.” I reply. “Bye Martha!” I wave as Duke practically drags me to the cafeteria.

Chandler is pacing in front of the vending machines, stopping as soon as her eyes meet mine.

“Veronica!” She shouts, not bitchy, but not really excited either. “I need you to forge a letter.”

I sigh. “Who’s hand?”

“Ram Sweeney’s. You’ll need something to write on, Heather bend over.” Duke bends over and Mac hands me a pen and paper.

“Sorry.” I whisper to Duke. Chandler takes two steps in our direction so she’s right beside us. Striking a pose somewhere between military and waitress, she starts talking.

“Hey beautiful. I’ve been watching you and thinking about the old days.” Duke and Mac snicker while Chandler continues.

“I hope you can come to my home coming party this weekend. I miss you. Ram.” Duke’s almost in tears and Mac has to sit down.

“Oh!” Chandler continues. Put an ‘XO’ after the signature!”

“Who’s this for anyways?” I wonder aloud.

“Not telling.” Chandler folds the note neatly and walks up to Ram.

“Hey Ram!” She waves enthusiastically. “Would you be a sweetie and give this to Martha Dumptruck for me?” I stand there, shocked.

“Heather, no!” I exclaim. Chandler ignores me and continues to focus on Ram.

“Sure.” He says.

“Don’t open it, doll.” She watches as Ram takes it across the cafeteria and places it on Martha’s tray. She must be in the washroom or something.

I turn to Chandler. “Why the hell would you do that to Martha?!” Chandler just shrugs and sticks out her tongue. Than I slap her. _Oh shit. Dear mental diary, I’m so fucking dead._

“Are we gonna have a problem?” There is nothing I have seen, nothing, I tell you, that can scare the ever living _shit_ out of you like Heather Chandler’s grey eyes that darken like a storm when she’s angry.

“Do you have a bone to pick?” She’s ranting now. “You’ve come so far, so tell me, why now, have you decided to pull my dick?!” People are staring now. “I’d normally slap your face off, and everyone here could watch,” She nods towards the crowd that’s gathered. “But I’m feeling nice, here’s some advice.” She’s in my face now. “Listen up byatch!” Chandler grabs my collar and pushes me back. I brace for an impact, but it never comes. Instead the Heathers dragged me to a supply closet.

At first I don’t feel anything, only hear the ‘whap’ as skin connects, and then it’s spreading all as once, all across the side of my face. Pain.

“Jesus fucking CHRIST Heather!” I rub my cheek while she stares bullets through my skull.

“Revenge bitch, for slapping _me_.” I glare at her.

“I wouldn’t have slapped you is you weren’t such an absolute fucking dick to Martha!” I take my hand away from my face and clench it in a fist at my side.

“Heather, maybe we should ju-”

“Shut UP Heather!” Chandler pushes Duke to the ground, only to be helped up quickly by Mac. Chandler turns back to me and brushes her blazer off be fore addressing me once again.

“You wanted to get into the most popular clique in school, and you have. Don’t blow this.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

“You fuck this up, _darling_ , and you’ll be swimming with the fishes. I’ll make sure _no one_ will ever want to associate with you, _ever._ ” Mac is just staring; Duke's appearing half of her size now. Gulp.

“You’re either with us or a pussy, your choice. Make it now.” I don’t hesitate.

“You.”

“Good.” Chandler looks… Almost pleased with my decision.

Then she punches me in the arm. Real fucking nice. Chandler exits the closet, followed by the others. I wait a few minutes and leave as well. There’s a guy in a trench coat right outside the door, leaning on the wall. I ignore him, he’s probably just another stoner kid.

“You shouldn’t have bowed down to the swatch dogs and the diet coke heads. They’re gonna crush that girl.” I whip around. Trench coat is looking at me.

“I’m sorry what?” I ask, confused.

“You’ve clearly got a soul, you just need to work hard keeping it clean. _We are all born marked for evil.”_ With that, he turns and walks away.

“Ok, don’t just quote Baudelaire at me and the walk away!” I shout at him. “Excuse me? I didn’t catch your name.” He turns, with an unreadable on his face.

“I didn’t throw it.” I look at a security camera as if I’m on “The Office”. I start to walk away when I hear Kurt speaking to Ram.

“Who does that guy in the jacket think he is anyway, Bo Diddley?”

“Veronica is in to his act, no doubt.” Ram says.

“Let’s kick his ass.” Kurt starts to walk in his direction when Ram stops him.

“We’re seniors man; we’re too old for that shit.” Kurt ignores him and continues walking.

“Hey Sweetheart!” Kurt shouts through the hall. Trench coat doesn’t even look up. “What did your boyfriend say when you told him you were moving to Sherwood, Ohio?” Ram joins Kurt and slaps Trench Coat in the head.

“My buddy Kurt just asked you a question.”

“Hey Ram,” Kurt starts, looking over. “Doesn’t the school have a ‘No fags allowed’ rule?” At this, Trench Coat looks up and smirks.

“They seem to have an open door policy for assholes though.” Kurt’s face contorts.

“Hold his arms!” Ram does as told and Kurt throughs a punch. Trench coat breaks free and blocks it with a book. While Kurt is cradling his hand Trench coat smacks Ram in the side of the face with his book. Or so I’m told later on by McNamara, seeing as I was writing something in my diary at the time.

A chorus of ‘holy shit’ runs through the crowd and I turn to observe and… Holy shit. Time seems to freeze for a minute. _Holy shit._ Confusing thoughts and feelings run through me as time seems to unfreeze. Whoa. He just knocked Ram to the ground with one punch. He turns to Kurt and starts headbutting him, over and over. Jesus, that’s going to leave a mark.

Kurt's joined Ram on the ground now, holding his head and groaning in pain.   
“By the way, my boyfriend said good _bi_ and good luck ass-wipe”. The kid turns and walks away, sending a smile in my general direction before he leaves. _Holy shit is right._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So basically this entire thing (aka my headcanons and what-not) are all inspired by @notaguitarfret's "They're all girlfriends au" and I highly suggest you read the series
> 
> Find me on tumblr @emberphoenix-san


	4. Chapter 4

“God Veronica, drool much?” Heather Chandler takes aim at her croquet ball. “You were totally throwing your panties at that new kid.” Mac and Duke try to stifle their laughter. Chandler looks at my house then turns back to me.

“And from the look of your house, you can’t afford replacements any time soon.”

“Come on, I don’t even know his name.” Chandler hits my ball off the field towards my parents. “Mom, dad! Look out!” My mother picks up the ball and Chandler goes to grab it.

“Here you go girls. Care for some pâté?” Mom’s holding a plate of crackers out. Chandler takes a step closer to examine it.

“This isn’t pâté. It’s liverwurst.” I hurry over to try and get Heather to keep her mouth shut for once. My mom’s one step ahead of me.

“I’m aware of that, Heather. It’s a family joke.” Heather takes a cracker from the trey.

“Oh. Funny.” She puts the cracker to her lips for a small bite.

“Can someone tell me why I read these spy novels?” Dad says, out of nowhere. I sigh.

“Because you’re an idiot, Dad.” Chandler looks at me in surprise.

“Oh yeah, that’s it.” Dad goes back to reading his book.

“You two.” Mom shakes her head. “So girls, any plans tonight?” Mac nods enthusiastically.

“Big homecoming party at Ram Sweeny’s place. I’m catching a ride with Heather.” Chandler gives me an impatient smile.

“Speaking of which…”

“Right. Great pâté mom, but we have to motor if we want to be ready for that party.” Heather Chandler starts to walk to the front of the house, dropping the croquet ball in the crackers.

“Oops.” I swear, she’s trying to make my life a living hell. Mac and Duke follow her to the front, but mom grabs my arm before I can.

“Don’t let these girls change you.” She looks worried.

“I need them.” I counter.

“For what? You have other friends. You have Martha.” I pull my arm away.

“Maybe I want more out of life than liverwurst.” I snap. And with that, I follow the Heathers out to Chandler’s Porsche.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, I know, I'm sorry


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update before I leave for two weeks and have no wifi... Happy Holidays

I’m at Chandler’s place with her, waiting on Duke and Mac, who are supposed to pick us up. Heather’s gone through about thirty dresses, trying to find one for the party. I’ve just thrown on a dress shirt and a skirt.

“Jesus Heather, how many dresses do you have?” I mutter as Heather throws yet another dress out of the washroom.

“Ronnie!” Heather calls out. “Come here, I need help!” I sigh an do as told.

“Ok, what do you need help wi-“

“Put this on.” She interrupts me. It’s a beautiful dress, blue and black, strapless. I take it and change. She still refuses to turn, so I just go with it. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s gay.

“Duke texted me, she’s unable to pick us up.” She walks out to the bed, moaning and complaining until she flops down on it.

“You’re such a kid, _babe_.” I sigh and sit next to her.

“Don’t call me that.” She pouts into a mound of pillows.

“Fine, _hun_.” I get smacked with a pillow.

“Stop.” She sits up and I see the anger dancing in her eyes.

“Ok, okay.” I get up and offer her my hand. “Let’s go get some corn nuts, it’s not a party without them.”

/

“Ronnie!” How cute, Chandler used my nickname. “Don’t forget the corn nuts!” I sigh. Jesus fucking Christ Heather.

“Plain or BQ?” I yell over my shoulder as I’m walking.

“BQ!” She yells out the window. Jesus fucking Christ.

I’m at the shelf, trying to find a pack of BQ corn nuts, God forbid I go back without them. Heather will have my head. _Bingo_! I pick up the last package and head up to the register.

“Greetings and salutations.” I spin around. It’s that trench coat kid. “You want a slushie with that?” He nods towards the corn nuts.

“No, but if you’re nice I’ll let you buy me a Big Gulp.” I force a smile. The kid pretty much loses it.

“Jesus Christ! You can’t say that here! That’s like… like… That’s like going to Mickey D’s to order a salad!” He takes a few breathes to calm down, then continues. “Did you say Cherry or Coke?”

“I didn’t.” I reply. He sighs and goes for cherry anyway.

“So… are you a Heather?” I laugh.

“No, I’m a Veronica… Sawyer. You gonna tell me your name or will I be calling you trench coat for eternity?” He grins at my remark.

“I’ll end the suspense. Jason Dean. J.D. for short.” He takes a drink of his slushie.

“That thing you pulled in the hall was pretty severe, ‘J.D.’.”

“The extreme always makes an impression.” He says, at the counter paying for the slushie and another pack of corn nuts.

“What brings a Baudelaire-quoting bad-ass like you to quiet little Sherwood, Ohio?” I wonder out loud. J.D. sighs.

“My dad’s work. He owns a de-construction company.” Wow. His mood fell real fast.

“De-construction? What the hell-” He cuts me off.

“The old man seems to enjoy tearing shit down. Seen the commercial? ‘I’m Big Bud Dean. If it’s in the way, I’ll make your day.’ I hate it.”

“Got it. Then he pushes the plunger and the screen blows up.”

“That’s him. In all his toxic glory.” We’re interrupted by a car horn, probably Heather, to be honest.

“Veronica!!” I was right. J.D. nods towards the door.

“Those your friends?”

“One of them.” I reply through gritted teeth. I pay for the corn nuts and head out. “I don’t really like my friends.” J.D. Nods and follows.

“I don’t really like your friends either, but hey, you're a cute couple. Well, enjoy the party. Wouldn’t want to keep your girlfriend waiting.”

“Thanks, I’ll try t- Wait what?!” He’s already driven off on his motorcycle. I head back to the car, awaiting Heather’s wrath.

“What took so long?” Heather demands.

“Relax! Jesus. I was talking to J.D. Am I not allowed to do that?” Heather snorts.

“Do whatever the hell you want. Just don’t waste my time.” I turn to her and look her dead in the eye.

“By the way… He thinks we’re dating.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On hiatus until further notice... Sorry for any inconvenience


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I have had a really rough 2019 so far, with school starting again and my anxiety attacks more frequent, and exams next week, but I've finally sat my ass down and wrote (Not this chapter I've had this one for a while, I just like to write ahead before I post). But fucking hell, I'm proud of my self. Hope y'all are having a wonderful year so far, please enjoy!

We arrive 'fashionably late' as Heather calls it. I call it a half-hour less of this abuse. Who's idea of fun is this, horny teenagers and blackout drunks? The music's blaring (we heard it literally _blocks_ away), and Heather's disappeared to find Mac and Duke. _  
“Leaving me all alone.”_ I mutter through gritted teeth. I catch a glimpse of green and hope it's Duke, but no, joke's on me, it's just a cute person with a great sense of style. I catch myself staring and blushing, then they turn around. Oh. _OH_. Shit, it is Duke, and she's spotted me and coming over here, while my face is still really fucking red.

“So, Heather finally got her confidence boost to actually come into the house?” Duke asks, dodging the sweaty teens that crowd the room.

“Wh-what do you mean Heather?” Duke just sighs and shakes her head.

“Not for me to explain. She might tell you, if she gets drunk or something, but I highly doubt she'll be touching booze tonight. Also, word of wise, it's salt, shot, lime, okay?”

“Oh. Fair enough, and thanks, I guess.” Me and Heather lean against the wall in semi-comfortable silence, watching tipsy and drunk teens making mistakes in the living room and on the temporary dance floor. A bit of yellow sky in this shit-storm around us. Heather disappears for a minute leaving me to fend for myself, only to return with two red cups in her hand. She hands one to me and rejoins me in my wall-leaning club that I've founded in this corner.

“Hey, umm. Ron- er, Veronica?” Heather breaks the silence.

“Yea?” I turn to face her, but she's avoiding eye-contact in favour of staring out at the sea of drunken toddlers jumping up and down to the beat.

“Can, uh, may I ask a question?” She's avoiding contact in general now, hunched up and making herself as small as possible, like if she doesn't, someone will see her and attack her or something.

“Yea, shoot.” I put a hand on her shoulder reassuringly but she shrugs it off.

“Are, you, um, do you- Shit no- Are you against same-sex marriage in any way?” I blink, not quite grasping the question until a few seconds later. She seems to take that as a 'yes' because her eyes start to shimmer with tears and she has to blink a few times to avoid spilling them.

“No, why would I be? I mean, it'd be kind of pointless if I were, being bi and all.” Duke looks shocked, and kind of pleased, dragging the back of her sleeve over her face.

“Oh thank god.” She sighs, and sinks to the floor. I quickly grab a seat beside her.

“Heather, can I ask you a question? You don't have to answer, I'm just curious.” She turns to look at me and nods, giving me the okay. “Are you gay?”   
“No.” She simply states. “I'm bi too. And ace. Biromantic.”

“Cool beans.” I state and point some finger guns at her. She grabs my hand, and we're sitting here on the floor, staring at knees and that pour kid who's asleep in the middle of the floor, until Heather breaks the silence again.

“Do you like Heather?” She asks.

“Um, can you please clarify which Heather? There's three of you.” She giggles. Duke fucking giggles.

“Chandler. Do you like Heather Chandler.” Damn.

“I don't know, I never really thought of it before. And isn't she a little homophobic?” Heather stares at me like I've just said the dumbest thing.

“Oh Ronnie.” She starts, using my new nickname. “Ronnie Ronnie Ronnie Ronnie. Heather is th- hey, is that Martha?” Heather peaks around me to get a glimpse of whoever just entered the house. It was indeed Martha.

“Oh, I'm gonna go say hi.” I state, getting up and extending a hand to her. “You coming with?” She shakes her head, using my hand to pull herself up.

“Nah, I've got to find Queen Bitch and literal sunshine and make sure they're not too drunk.”

“I though you said Chan- oh.” She disappeared into the crowd before I could finish. I turn and head over to Martha.

“Martha! My friend! Pal! Buddy! Amigo? Amigo.” Martha turns to face me, a look of confusion illustrated clearly on her face, quickly turning to recognition and delight.

“V!” She makes her way through the crowd and pulls me into a tight hug. “How's the party been?” Martha demands, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Well, I got here about fifteen minutes ago, Chandler ditched me, and I sat by the wall with Duke, so it could be better?” Someone walks around with a tray of shots and I grab a couple for me and Martha. She downs hers pretty quick and I have to admit, I'm kinda impressed.

“I thought you don't drink.” I state.

“I could say the same to you, _Ronnie._ ” She grins at me.

“You heard Heather?” I groan while Martha keeps that smirk on her face.

“Only when she was repeating it a million times. It suits you. So does she, to be honest.” Martha looks up thoughtfully.

“Okay Martha, I know you know I'm bi and I know you know I only allow you and any significant others to call me Ronnie, but Heather doesn't know that fact.”

“Okay, okay.” Martha pulls me in to another hug before breaking away. “I'm gonna go see if Betty came tonight.” She grins while I stand there, dumbfounded.

“Betty? Betty Finn?” A huge grin breaks out on my face. “Is she back did she move back here Martha I need answers now!” Martha giggles.

“Calm down Veronica, she's probably hanging out at home. You know she doesn't do parties.” Martha shoots me some finger guns.

“Martha, that was you. You don't do parties. Betty's a game of Russian roulette.” Martha grins.

“That's Betty for you. Well, I'm gonna check f- Hey, is that Heather?” She's peaking over my shoulder at someone behind me.

“Okay, Martha, sweetie, I need to clarify something.” She stares, waiting for me to continue. “Just because I hang out with them, doesn't mean I instantly know which on you're talking about when you just say 'Heather.' I need something to distinguish them. I don't have that sixth sense they all seem to have.” Martha nods in understanding.

“McNamara. The cute yellow cheerleader one.” I raise an eyebrow at her and flash a smirk.

“Cute?” Martha flushes slightly and gives a small, almost unnoticeable nod.

“Ok, thanks Martha. I'll catch you later.” And with that, we part and head off in our set directions.

Heather is already wasted by the time I've pushed through the crowd to get to her, and she's clinging to Duke for balance. Duke looks at me with an expression that reads 'Help me.'

“Heather, you need a hand there?” I ask calmly.

“Yes, please, Heather will crucify me if you don't.” She states.

“What do you mean?” I ask while taking Heather off of her shoulders.

“ She, um...” Duke fidgets with the end of her shirt that she through over her dress. “She's really protective over Heather and, um... She just doesn't really like people around her in general.”

“She doesn't trust you?” Duke turns away and mutters something incomprehensible to me. “Alright, Heather, hun, can you speak up? Do you want to find a room or somewhere quiet to talk about this?” She just nods. “Alright, wait against the wall or something, I'm gonna find Chandler and give her Mac. Okay?”

“You, um, you can't called her 'Mac.' That's Heather's nickname for her.” Duke stammers. “And my nickname for her is 'Em,' so you're gonna have to find your own soon.”

“Wow, three nicknames for one human? That's almost as much as I gain within a week of public school.” Duke gives me a weak smile before heading over to the wall to sit down.

I find Chandler in the kitchen out-drinking Ram with Kurt leading the other kids in cheering them on. Heather slams the cup of what I assume was a mix of fireball, vodka, and whiskey (from the bottles scattered on the counter) down, followed by Ram a good seven seconds later. All I know is they've made a horrible decision on their part. Ram hands her a twenty and they shake on it. _So much for not drinking._

“Heather!” I call out. She turns and acknowledges me.

“Sup, _Ronica?_ ” She grins at me.

“I'm leaving Heather with you, I've gotta go find someone and don't want her left alone.” She takes McNamara without question and gives me a nod so I know she's got her. And with that I leave to find Heather Duke.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS I FINALLY FOUND MOTIVATION TO WORK I'M SO HAPPY  
> see also: Me: Does revision of previous chapters you haven't posted count as being productive  
>  Me to me: Absolutely no- Actually yeah kind of

**Author's Note:**

> I don't post very often, so this isn't going to be a consistent thing. Sorry to disappoint


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